I mashed the dough between my small fingers, and my mom reminded me, “Connie, don’t play with that dough to much, it will make the crust tough.” So I shaped the dough into a ball, kind of, and I put it on a floured surface. Mom helped me to hold the old heavy wooden rolling pin and make the ball into a smooth flat circle. We somehow got the flat circle into a little ceramic dish.

Mom cut the pealed apples into thin sections. I picked each piece of apple gently up and delicately placed each piece into the dough covered dish. Mom sprinkled some sugar and cinnamon on top of my creation, then she placed the mini apple pie into the hot oven along side the two full sized pies that she put in before mine.

I wanted to plop down in front of the oven to watch my pie cook, but Mom told me to go out side while she cleaned up. “I’ll call you when it is done.” Mom said.

I ran out into our patio to play with my dolls, but who could play at a time like this. I never baked an apple pie before, I’ve never baked anything! But today I just thought I would ask, “Mom can I help?” I asked and to my surprise, she brought out a stool for me to stand on and she handed me a bit of dough to actually make my own little apple pie.

I will never forget this, I thought to myself as I dressed my doll in a casual outfit that she could bake a pie in. Then I re-enacted the baking scene with my mother doll and my half sized five year old doll.

“It’s done!” Mom called after what seemed like hours. “Here it is,” She stood holding my pie, dark hair, dark eyes, a beauty with a wide smile, and she was smiling at me. I touched the pie, it was just a little bit warm. “It’s been cooling,” Mom said, then added, “It’s almost time to eat dinner.”

I made it through the baking time, now I just have to make it through dinner. I could hardly stand it, I felt so excited.

Dinner seemed to lag on. When it was done, we cleared the dished before dessert. I thought to myself that it was almost time! I remember feeling such happiness, I could have been shining!

I walked over, picked up my little pie, The thing that I was so proud of, the thing that took up so much of thoughts, today.

The little pie, it smelled so sweet, I cradled it in my small hands as I walked to the table and placed it in front of my mom and dad. “I made this for you,” I exclaimed. They looked surprised, then delighted! And me, I felt warm and satisfied. The feeling of giving, there is nothing like it. That is what I learned that day.

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I love taking trips into the corridors of memory. So many treasures to be unearthed are hidden in there.

You've done a beautiful job drawing out the memory of this child. I'm curious, though, is the person reconstructing the scene in her mind a grown woman, or still that child? It's probably not important to know, but does stir my imagination to possible scenarios that incited the memory in the first place.

This is a sweet story. I could easily picture the little girl with bits of flour on her nose feeling grown up enough to help Mommy.

You had a few errors like to instead of too and pealed instead of peeled, and some repeating words in a short time that a good proofreader or critique group would help you catch.

The ending was especially sweet to me. It seems like nowadays less and less children realize that giving of ourselves can be so fulfilling. We are raising children in an instant gratification era and stories like this are needed to remind us what is really important. You did a lovely job of staying on topic, delivering a n important message while keeping the reader entertained.

This was completely endearing and delightful. This not only spoke of a more simple time but a simple persepctive - that of a small child. I thought the piece flowed and it was easy to stay interested righ to the end. I enjoyed the revealed purpose at the end - just added to the overall sweetness that already existed. Nice work here!